drunken questions
by kamefootninja
Summary: Just two friends, late at night, drinking heavily. What could possibly go wrong?


"You ever think about how ssscrewed up it all is?" Crowley asked out of the blue. He'd just finished downing another glass of wine, one of many, many he'd drank that night already. Instead of wasting time pouring another glass, he decided to just drink from the bottle from now on. The wine always mysteriously turned to red in his hands, even though the angel had only brought expensive white.

"What is, Dear?" Aziraphale wasn't surprised at the turn of conversation. It was always a dice roll if Crowley was going to get deep, or goofy when he was tipsy. After six thousand years, he'd gotten used to just going with whatever ramblings the demon had at that time.

"If we get caught!" Crowley exclaimed as if it was completely obvious what they were talking about. Given that they'd just been having a debate about whether rugby was one of theirs or not, it definitely wasn't obvious how the subject was changed.

"Yes, well. We've gotten away with it for this long. I think we'd have to make quite a mess of things before that happened." The angel assured his half drunken friend. He himself wasn't completely sober, but he'd always seemed to handle the alcohol better than Crowley.

"Yeah, but like. _You_. You'd probably get fallen. And me, lord…Lord satan! only knows what will happen to me." He tried to cover the fact that he had almost sworn to god instead of lucifer. Very taboo thing for a demon to do, so Aziraphale didn't comment on it. "Isn't that fluffed up!?" It took him a second to realise he used the wrong word. "Fucked up!" Crowley seemed to have given this some thought, even if he wasn't entirely in control of his senses right now. "How come angels can become demons, but like, it doesn't work the other way around!"

Aziraphale frowned at this sudden turn of events. Crowley had a point, but it was a point that he hadn't considered before. And coming from a demon, asking why you couldn't get back into heaven once you left was a troubling thought. Slowly, and careful, he asked a nervous question. "Crowley… are you saying that you'd become an angel again if you could?" That wasn't possible, of course, but aziraphale worried for his friend. If his loyalty to hell was in question, then his friend was in serious danger. Especially with the apocalypse just around the corner.

"Fuck no!" Crowley seemed shocked and offended at the very suggestion, which put the Angels mind at ease more than he'd admit. "I'd rather rot in hell than put up with that ssshit. Fucking Gabriel for a ssstart, he can fuck right off!" The alcohol was starting to take more of an affect on him now, his voice hissed and slurred as he swayed slightly in his place. Somehow he always managed to get more snake like when he was drinking or worked up.

The angel smiled, agreeing with the Demon, but not voicing it out loud. He disliked his boss as much as Crowley did, but he was still loyal to heaven, just, not as strict on following the rules to the letter. He had to be nice and respectful to people, he was an angel, and angels are meant to be nice, even if they don't like something. Though sometimes he envied Crowley ability to trash talk and speak his mind when he hated things.

There was a comfortable silence for awhile, both drinking more and just enjoying each other's company, they hadn't done this for awhile, and they seemed content to let it play out as long as it could. They weren't in a rush to sober up any time soon.

After awhile Aziraphale started to make a weird sound, like a cat trying to cough up a fur ball. It didn't seem like an uncomfortable thing though, or him choking. He'd stop for awhile, his face scrunching up awhile to think about something, and then try again, with arguably worse results.

Crowley watched with amusement for awhile, trying to work out what on earth his friend was trying tor do, before just raising a questioning eyebrow. "What _are_ you doing?"

"How do you do It?" Aziraphale's eyes were slightly glassy from the alcohol but he seemed almost amazed at, something.

"Do what?" The demon had no idea what his friend was trying to do, let alone know how he was involved somehow.

"You.. hiss." Aziraphale said, off hand, trying to copy the sound again. It sounded nothing like hissing, if anything it sounded like a dog trying to get peanut butter off the roof of his mouth.

"I hisss?" Crowley was still just as amused, not noticing it himself. "I don't hisssss do I?" Surely he's have noticed if he was Hissing? He hissed at people when he was annoyed at them, but he was fully aware of it then.

"There! You're doing It now!" Aziraphale was amazed, leaning forwards like he could physically see how to make the noise. How did he do that, and so effortlessly! It wasn't just the alcohol, he did it normally too, but it was always more pronounced when he was the wrong side of sober.

"Huh." That was an odd think to realise about yourself, but he shrugged, not like it mattered anyway. "I _am_ a sssnek.. snake." If Crowley couldn't even pronounce what type of demonic creature he was, then maybe it was time to stop drinking. He of course didn't, and instead drank even more. "Ssssneky Ssnake?" Crowley gave a drunken laugh at his own inability to speak.

Aziraphale tried again, before just groaning in defeat. Maybe angels couldn't do it? He hiccuped after another sip of wine, letting out a little 'ahhh' at the sweet taste. It was a good vintage, one he'd had for a good couple of centuries.

"That wass closer, Angel!" Crowley laughed, shaking his head. There was something sad and hilarious about the angels attempts to copy his mannerisms. It was a little strange, but endearing in his own quirky way.

Aziraphale laughed, giving up completely on his quest to sound like a snake. Instead he seemed distracted by something else. "Why do you do that?" Aziraphale asked, pleasantly merry. He was now positively lounging in the armchair, in a distinctly unangelic fashion. His face open and curious, not a trace of the worried and nervous expression he often wore while sober.

"Do what, Angel?" Crowley asked, a little distracted, either already forgotten what he'd said, or not understanding what the Angel was referring to.

"That!" The Angel exclaimed as if it was completely obvious. After a few more seconds of confused looks from the Demon, Aziraphale rolled his eyes, looking to the heavens while he tried to think of how to say it any clearer than he had. "Call me Angel."

"But you _are_ an Angel." Crowley snorted, as if it was a stupidly obvious thing. After six thousand years of calling Aziraphale Angel you'd think it went without saying. "Wait… don't you like It?" The demon frowned, it might be because of his current blood alcohol level, but he felt a little hurt that maybe Aziraphale hadn't liked the pet name all these years. He would have said before now if that was the case right?

"No, no. I _do_ like it!" Aziraphale blurted out, quickly trying to assure the demon who looked put out at the idea that he didn't. "I just. Wait..." Bringing a hand to his head, he tried to focus his thoughts through the haze of wine. "I just… sometimes it, hic, it's like reminding me?"

Crowley was quiet for a moment, seeming to accept Aziraphale's words, rocking his head back and forth a few times while he weighed up his option on what to say, which wasn't so easy though the haze. "It ssstarted to remind myself" He admitted with an amused little huff, like he'd only just realised it. "… isss just a pet name. Now though.

"But. We're both _technically_ Angels" As soon as the words left his mouth Aziraphale knew that he'd said the wrong thing. Instantly, the relaxed friendly atmosphere changed to one of cold tensions. He didn't know if it was possible to shock yourself sober, but he felt like he was half way there from the way his anxiety suddenly flared up. "I.I mean, you've fallen but..."

Crowley's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, even though he was still clearly drunk, he gave off a sudden wave of dangerous anger. Any other demon may have snapped, but somehow, probably due to alcohol sedating him, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm. "I'm gonna give you a chance to take that back, Aziraphale." The angel was his friend, had been for thousands of years, he knew it was meant innocently enough, but it was a gut wrenching reaction. To call a Demon angelic was not only insulting, it was down right offensive. A slur of the worst kind. He didn't know if his friend was aware of how offensive it was, but he did trust that the Angel didn't mean it that way.

" sorry." The angel quickly scrambled to try and take the words back. "But. No, uh, what I mean is…." He waved his hand around, as if he was trying to conjure the right words to stop the demon from flying into a rage. "Demons are… of Angel.. Stock." He finished lamely, feeling foolish for making the point in the first place. "By the same logic I. Well I guess I'm just as much demon?"

Apparently he'd said the right thing, because the tension seemed to slowly melt away with Crowley's snort of amusement, "Trust me Angel, you're far from demonic." Aziraphale wouldn't last two seconds in hell, or with the assignments he'd be given. There's a reason Crowley didn't tell the Angel everything he'd done in the name of hell. With his anger simmering down, he took in the meaning behind the Angles words. Demons and Angels came from the same stock. It was obvious, Demons were Angels who had fallen. But falling means changing, and becoming something else. Still, the two of them had been the ones to realise that angels could do temptations, and Demons still had the power to bless. Maybe Aziraphale had a good point. What if, they were in fact still almost the same, just different departments?

"But what's the _big_ difference? Obviously I have no idea what it's like to be a Demon. Is it really that much different? I mean apart from the hell fire and temptations." Aziraphale had wondered what it was like being a demon. Of course Crowley was hardly a typical demon, so his idea of demons was probably heavily skewed. He wouldn't be caught dead drinking with any other demon he'd come into contact, or even talking to them. Crowley was an exception to a lot of rules he had in regards to hell in general.

"It's just. Different. Fallen Angels, Demons, whatever. It's not the sssame as _being_ an angel." Crowley tried to reason, his head swimming, but still swigging straight from the bottle. Angels and Demons were practically a different species, and they were treated as such by both sides.

There had been something on Aziraphale's mind for a good few thousand years. And somehow, possibly because of the little alcohol that still had an effect on him after his little scare, he finally took a deep breath and asked. "What was it like?" The wine had definitely gone to his head and clouded his judgment. He'd never ask this sober, and he'd probably regret this later, but right now he had to ask. "Falling, I mean." His voice was weary, worried, it was something he'd thought a lot about over the years, but never wanted to think about in any depth.

Now. A lot of people have a fear of falling, it was a very sensible fear. No one wanted to fall off a building, or a cliff, or from a plane after all. So it was a very human thing to fear. Aziraphale's fear of falling wasn't so human, though it was arguably more sensible. He was scared of _falling_. Falling from grace and cast out of heaven.

The demon stared for a moment, before he burst out laughing " Did you just… 'did it hurt when i fell from heaven' me!?" He didn't know what was funnier, Aziraphale _using_ a pick up line, or just how corny the one he used was. Either way he found it far more funny than he should have.

"Crowley, please. I'm being serious." There was a seriousness to the Angels tone, but he was just as inebriated as the demon was, and so the genuine worry and fear in his voice was masked by the slight drunken slur. It was something they joked about, but Aziraphale secretly had nightmares over. If he was caught doing dark temptations, then he would become fallen. Crowley had experience as a fallen Angel, even if his memory of the event was hazy at best, and completely gone as worst. But Aziraphale didn't know anything about what happened when an Angel was cast out of heaven. And not knowing terrified him, because it let his unusually vivid imagination come up with worse scenarios everytime. He dreaded to think what the conversion was like.

It had been asked before, of course, over six thousand years it was bound to come up now and then, but Crowley never gave a serious Answer. In all honesty, Aziraphale had given up asking a couple thousand years ago. But lately he feared more and more that heaven would find out about the arrangement and cast him out. Just the fact that he conversed with the demon on a regular basis was enough for them to call his loyalties into question. If they knew he performed temptations for the demon. He shuddered at the thought.

The demons laughter died down pretty quick when he realised just how serious the question was. Aziraphale being an Angel, could feel strong feelings of love, trust and kindness in others. Crowley on the other hand, being a demon, was the opposite. Naturally, he only sensed sadness, fear and hurt, all of which radiated off Aziraphale in dizzying waves. He really was being serious. Not only serious, but sincere. He was genuinely asking, because he was scared. More than scared, the angel was terrified. By the seems of it, it had been worrying him for awhile now.

"I'm not nearly drunk enough for this." Crowley muttered finishing his bottle of wine, and reached for the whiskey he'd brought with him. If this was happening then he needed something stronger to get him through.

"Crowley… if I fall"

"You won't." Crowley said dismissively, generously swigging from the whisky bottle. He hoped in vain that the Angel would take the hint to change the subject, so he could avoid the question, as he had for so many years now. But even the wrong side of tipsy, he knew that wasn't going to happen.

"_If_ I fall." Aziraphale repeated. His voice was tired, heavily with emotion that he would have been able to conceal, had he been sober. "…. I. I just want to know what to expect." He explained, almost too soft to be heard, half hoping that it wasn't . He'd been stressing over this for a long time without saying a word. He blamed the alcohol why he'd finally given his fear a voice, but now he couldn't take it back.

The silence that followed was the exact opposite of comfortable. It was Tense and the air was heavy. Neither wanting to say anything, or knowing how to move the conversation along to something else this time. Aziraphale was visibly shaken, he fidgeted in his seat, trying to distract himself with more wine, with little success. He should have stayed silent, as he had for thousands of years. Why was he such an idiot?

"I'm sorry."

Crowley, was disturbingly calm through all of this. The demon sat completely still, no subtle unconscious swaying. Unblinking, and he didn't blink much as it was, which is why it all alarmed the Angel that he even noticed this. Crowley looked as if he were frozen in time, not ever looking past the point on the floor he'd fixated on, eyes long since having given up trying to look human. If it wasn't for the soft rise and fall of his chest, something that they had both picked up other the years, despite not needing to breathe, then Aziraphale might have thought that he had indeed frozen time by accident.

"It. burns." Crowley eventually said, voice low and quiet, like he was forcing the words out. He'd never spoken about it out loud. Demons didn't talk freely about such things, and he could hardly open up to a human. But truthfully, he just didn't even like thinking about it. His eyes didn't move from his position on the floor, but he adjusted his posture slightly, uncomfortably tense.

"I'm sorry." Aziraphale's face softened with his painfully honest apology. Crowley's voice was emotionless, a sign that he was hurt and needed to go numb to avoid letting out the emotions inside him. He felt bad for making his friend relive what was possibly the most painful memory he had. "It.. felt like being burnt?" He chose his words carefully, unsure if he should say anything at all, hoping the get the information without making Crowley feel worse. The demon had broken the silence, he wouldn't have done that if he wasn't willing to at least try.

"No." Crowley crossed his arms, closing off his body language even more. The movement was mechanical, not the laid back, graceful way he usually moved. It was like he was trying to make himself smaller, shut down anything that would show what he was really feeling. "It burns." He repeated softly, his voice sounding dead and flat. His eyes, finally, slowly lifted to meet the Angels. Without his glasses Crowley had lost the best way he had to shield his emotions, and Aziraphale could see the raw pain in the snakes eyes.. "Sstill does…. You get used to it over time, but it's always there. In the background."

Aziraphale was silent. Taking in the words with a heavy heart. Crowley, burned as he fell, and he was still burning. He was dammed, and constantly felt the fire of being expelled from heaven. "Does…. Does it hurt?" His voice was hesitant, both not sure he wanted to know the answer, and hating himself for asking question when it was clearly a painful subject.

Crowley's eyes fell again, this time to the bottle of whisky in his hand, taking another generous swig. "I can't tell anymore." His body was still tense, but his posture relaxed a little with the bitter burn of the whisky, a burning that he had control over. Shaking his head slowly, his tongue darted out a second to wet his lips, trying to compensate for his suddenly dry mouth. "After Ssix thousand years, you stop thinking about it. It fades into the background. But it's always there."

Aziraphale felt terrible. Crowley probably hadn't thought about it for a long time, and the Angel had dragged all that pain back to the surface, and just because he decided to finally voice his fear of falling. "I shouldn't have asked."

Crowley was silent for awhile longer, before he sighed and sat up straighter, slowly making himself more present. The alcohol was helping, but any giddy feelings he usually had from being drunk was gone. It was little more than a light sedative now. "No…. It's not like I'd talk about thiss to anyone else." It was just him and his best friend here, he wasn't in danger, the Angel would never use anything this serious against him. But it was hard to let himself be this vulnerable. Opening up to someone is something he had never let himself do. To a demon, exposing a weakness was practically waving a red flag for a bull. It invited trouble, and handed them the keys to destroy you all in all senses of the world.

"It's. Hard to remember a lot of when it happened. I…. I can't remember much of what it was like to be angel." He explained, with a surprising amount of sadness in his voice. His tone spoke volumes, how he regretted the fact that his memory failed him, robbing him of his time before the fall. "… but, from what I remember.. it's like. a feeling… like.. being warm. and… safe?" He struggled with the words, things not usually in his vocabulary, especially when talking about himself. He felt a little stupid, trying to describe what he remembered to an actual Angel, who probably was too accustomed to the feeling to even notice it. His voice was soft, and had the same air as someone fondly remembering a loved one they had lost. "Then suddenly..."

He paused, taking another long draw of whiskey. For awhile it didn't seem like he was going to continue, lost in his own thoughts. But then he licked his lips again, a nervous habit of his, and took a deep breath. " it was like… like ice. Then fire. And burning…" His voice was slow and deliberate, face distorted slightly, like the words themselves tasted horrific on his tongue. He didn't look up at the Angel sat in front of him, and said angel wasn't sure if he even remembered that he had company anymore, or if he just needed to talk out loud.

Aziraphale listened intensely, but more than anything he watched his best friend. This demon, who always seemed so confident and unfazed by the world around him, was laying himself bare. He trusted the angel enough to speak about it out loud. This was no longer about Aziraphale wanting to know. It was giving Crowley a chance to voice things he'd kept locked away all his life. He wasn't sure how much of it was metaphysical, or literal, but it didn't matter in this moment, what mattered was that he didn't want to stop the demon from venting.

"There wasn't an earth. So hell was the only option….. I got out as sssoon as I could." And for the first time Aziraphale was reminded just how old the demon was. They had known each other for six thousand years, but they were both much older than that, and Crowley possibly even older than him. "That Answer your question, Angel?" When Crowley's yellow eyes finally flicked up to meet with Aziraphale's, they weren't cold or hash, there was just a drained defeated look to them. There was pain, but mostly he just looked tired, like recalling the whole thing had physically and mentally drained the demon of all his will.

Aziraphale nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak right away. The way Crowley had spoken, it wasn't anything like he'd heard from the demon before. He could feel his pain, understand a deeper meaning behind who Crowley was, and why he loved the earth and its people so much. Without the Earth, he'd be stuck in hell for eternity. And if the apocalypse happened, and hell won, then that would be all that existed. If heaven won then it would all disappear just the same. Whatever the outcome, it would be miserable. Part of the angel was in awe. But more than anything, he felt determined to stand by the demons side. Crowley tried to convince him to stop the apocalypse with talk of music, and food, and creatures. But for the first time, he saw just how much this meant to his very dear friend.

"I'm sorry." Aziraphale didn't mean for anything in particular, but more generally sorry. Sorry for bringing this up, for asking, for what Crowley had been through long before they had met. Briefly, the angel remembered how Crowley still had the thermos of concentrated holy water in his apartment. Insurance, he had called it. And what that meant in light of their current situation.

"I don't need your pity, _Aziraphale_." There was a bitterness to his voice, like the seal had been broken and he was about to suddenly threw up his walls again, protecting himself. He didn't want pity, he was a demon, he didn't need sympathy. And the way he used the Angels name, in that tone, held none of the usual fondness as when he called him angel.

"It's not pity." Aziraphale's voice was usually soft, he very rarely raised his voice to anyone, but for once his voice was hard and stern. Angelic eyes narrowed slightly in offence. He wasn't throwing the demon a pity party here, he was genuinely sorry for what he'd been through, but it wasn't pity. He cared for the demon, more than he'd been willing to admit because of the sides they were on, but he cared very deeply for the demon. "What it is, is caring for a dear friend of mine." Any hint of alcohol in his system was long gone, burned up from the sheer well of emotions inside him.

Crowley grunted, but he didn't seem to want to argue further. He made an excuse not to meet the Angels eyes by placing the empty whisky bottle on a nearby table that was already crowded by books. "I should be getting home. It's late." He didn't need to be home of course, and if he was being honest, he'd probably just go for a walk. He couldn't even sleep this off, because the way he was feeling, he wouldn't want to get up for at least a week. He'd slept for almost a century before now, but with the apocalypse due any day, he couldn't afford that.

Aziraphale sighed, knowing that Crowley was just making excuses to be alone. Being alone would not be good for him right now. "Crowley, I care about you. And I'm sorry for asking.. but maybe it was a good thing. Maybe talking about it will make it hurt less?"

"Maybe…. Not like it's going to matter soon anyway. Armageddon is coming. And whichever side wins, we're going to lose." Crowley hadn't thrown his walls up, in fact he just remained tired and quiet. The alcohol still in his system made him sluggish still, not to mention the mental exhaustion.

It was clear that Crowley meant the two of them would lose, which comforted the angel, to hear that the demon wasn't going to completely turn his back on him after tonight. He hadn't messed up their friendship at exactly y he point in time they needed eachother most. Crowley had always been the one to think of them as their own side, but Aziraphale still held his strong loyalties to heaven, though those loyalties were definitely called into question more and more with recent events.

"Let me tempt you to a spot of lunch?" Aziraphale fell back on old, tried and true methods. They dined together a lot, in celebration, in solidarity, just to get away from things for awhile. But it had been Crowley, who had started the almost ritualistic act of going for a meal to cheer the other one up when they were feeling down. And Crowley was definitely feeling low right now.

The demon in question raised an eyebrow, glancing over to clock on other wall. "Its 3 in the morning angel. I don't think anything is open." He didn't sound too opposed to the idea though, which the Angel took as a good sign.

"Isn't it you who usually says 'it's five o'clock somewhere?' How about Australia? There's a darling little place in canberra that should be open for breakfast." Aziraphale smiled. Their talk had gotten heavy, and both had opened up a lot more to each other tonight then they had in a good few thousand years. But they were still themselves, and still friends. Aziraphale was determined to prove that nothing was changed between them.

With a sigh Crowley decided it wasn't worth arguing over. After all, a good meal wasn't something they turned down often, and he could tell that the Angel was worried about him. He grabbed his glasses from the floor, where they'd fallen from the chair, and slide them securely back onto his face. It was stupid really, but he felt better with them on, when people couldn't see his eyes, or the emotions behind them. "Australia it is then?" He gave a small, tired smile when he saw Aziraphale scramble for his coat. Maybe this was good for the both of them. "Oh and Aziraphale? You're buying."

"Of course dear." Was the angels happy reply. The two prepared themselves to leave, walking out of the soho bookstore in the early morning, to _miraculously_ step out into Australia in the sunny afternoon, ready to relax and enjoy their outing, a little pallet cleanser after the nights events. Some much needed normallicy, before they had to return to face the reality of the end of the world once again.

For a little while, they could forget everything around them, and let themselves just relax. In public, eating and casually chatting about nothing in particular, they weren't an angel and a demon. They were just two good friends, who cared deeply for each other, and had done for a very, very long time indeed.


End file.
